


Photograph

by Blue_Five



Series: Love and Affection [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Stiles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega!Derek, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 00:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3188174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Five/pseuds/Blue_Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wonders if what he and Stiles feel for each other is real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photograph

Stiles pulls up in front of Sheriff Parrish's house and parks his Jeep. He looks over at his passenger seat where Derek sits, holding onto the potato salad like a life preserver. He lays a hand on the omega's arm and blinks at the tightly corded muscles there.

“Um ... cub?”

Derek looks out the windshield. “Can we go home now, Stiles? I don't think I can do this.”

It's only been two weeks since Derek's release from the hospital. His body still bears the bruises from the fight and he still has a lot of pain from the other ... issue. Stiles reaches up and turns the man's face toward him. He holds the hazel eyes with his own. Fear sours Derek's scent. Stiles runs a gentle thumb over the bearded jaw.

“If you want to leave, then we will, cub,” Stiles promises.

“But?” Derek asks.

Stiles shakes his head and restarts the Jeep. “No 'buts'. We just go back home.”

Stiles forces himself not to slow his movements. He checks his mirror and pulls a u-turn away from the house, heading back to his own.

Derek exhales softly and stares down at the bowl in his lap. Mustard potato salad with extra celery because apparently someone named Scotty likes it that way. Derek helped by chopping the ingredients while the eggs and potatoes boiled but Stiles put it all together. It was a completely domestic moment between them. Derek finds himself wondering how many more of those moments they'll have. He frowns. When did things change?

“Did the salad piss you off, Derek?” Stiles asks with a curious eyebrow.

“What?”

“You're glaring at that bowl like it offended you,” Stiles explains.

_It did_ , Derek thinks.  _It says I'm exactly what I said I'd never be ... a fucking mated, bred and kept omega bitch._

Except he isn't. Derek looks over at Stiles, smiling at him when he catches Derek looking his way as he drives them home. Derek frowns and the smile fades. Stiles doesn't look back over at Derek and the omega feels like he just broke something. He frowns even harder trying to understand. It's been two weeks since his release from the hospital. He can still feel the fists that pummeled his midsection and face. He still sees the yellowing bruises on his jaw and ribs. He still hurts deep inside where his body tried to protect the life growing there ... and couldn't. He still cries at night after Stiles' breathing evens out into sleep.  Lost in thought, he doesn't notice that they've stopped until the driver's side door slams shut.

Derek jerks his head up and sees Stiles walk to the front door of the house and go inside. Derek swallows hard. He's ruined it, whatever  _ it _ was. Stiles will probably suggest he go to a Center. Omegas that have been claimed can't really function alone from what he's seen. The Centers were set up to help omegas in this modern age of understanding. Derek's experiences with them have been less than ... helpful. 

Derek wonders how far he can get if he runs right now. He refuses to be sent to a Center. He knows he'll never be able to bond to another alpha, but that doesn't matter – Derek doesn't  _ want _ another alpha. He wants Stiles. Derek blinks. 

_ When did that happen? _ _ When did I want this life? _

The Jeep door opens and Derek jumps. Stiles reaches into his lap and takes the bowl from nerveless fingers before going back inside. Derek realizes that both times Stiles has enter ed the house he's left the front door wide open. He follows, feeling dazed.

Stiles is sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in hand. Derek closes the front door and locks it. He sits down across from Stiles and looks down at his own hands. For a long time neither of them say anything. Stiles clears his throat.

“Do you ... are you going to leave, Derek?”

The voice that asks the question is once Derek's only heard a couple of times. It's soft and uncertain. It's desperate because the answers are going to hurt. Derek looks up and stares into amber eyes that shining with tears about to spill over.

“Would you want me if we'd met outside my Heat?” Derek asks hoarsely.

Stiles frowns this time, wetness glinting on his cheeks. He wipes at his face and shakes his head. 

“I don't know, Derek. Maybe? You're fucking gorgeous,” Stiles says.

Derek snorts. “Omegas in Heat are always gorgeous to alphas.”

Stiles drops his head. “Don't ask the question if you don't believe me when I answer you, Derek.”

Derek looks down again. “Would we be here if you'd just picked me up? Would I have been a one-night-stand? Are you ... how can you ...?”

Derek fights himself. He wants to know how Stiles can trust this  _ whatever _ between them. They called it love in the hospital. They want one another but is it even  _ real?  _ Are they really in love or is it just something made up out of the drug of an omega Heat?

Stiles gets up and walks out of the room. Derek hears drawers opening and closing. Stiles walks back in and puts a framed photo on the table in front of Derek. The omega looks up curiously as Stiles takes his seat again and drags from his beer. Derek picks the picture up carefully and looks at it.

Three faces look back. They are all smiling. Stiles is in the middle, younger and brighter. Derek compares the picture to what sits across from him and he sees the weight of ghosts on the alpha. He knows exactly how that feels.

On the left of Stiles is an older man, another alpha by the looks of it and definitely Stiles' father or some close relation. Derek can see the same brow-line and those damnable amber eyes. He also sees the sheriff's uniform. On the other side of Stiles is another man but this one is about the same age as Stiles with olive skin, dark hair and eyes. His smile splits his face and his head is tilted against Stiles'. Derek doesn't know what clues him in but he immediately thinks:  _ omega _ . Derek looks up and this time the amber eyes are dry. 

“My dad used to be the sheriff of Beacon Hills. Me an' Scotty grew up together. He was my best friend in the entire world,” Stiles says. “When he had his first Heat ... he came to me.  We were barely fifteen but he'd been with me when my mom died and he was so scared.”

Derek remembers being scared at fifteen. He wishes he'd had a friend like Stiles to go to back then. 

“We hid out for three days,” Stiles says with a wry grin. “God, my dad and his mom were  _ pissed _ . But what could they do? I already knew I loved Scott and he loved me. That was all there was to it ... I claimed him and we were Mates.”

Derek absently runs his fingers over the bite mark. He looks down at the laughing face and feels a hand close over his heart. The young man in the photo looks so  _ happy _ . So  _ content _ . How much of a disappointment must  _ Derek _ be ... all frowns and moods?

“He and my dad were ... he caught a ride with my dad after his class out at the community college. He wanted to be a nurse, like his mom. They were coming to the house and we were going to have dinner and go bowling,” Stiles continues his story softly. “ Dad pulled a guy over because his taillights were out. That's it. Simple stop. Except the guy was an ex-con with a  fresh stash of black tar heroin and slick.”

Derek knows the names of the drugs. He's been offered slick enough on the streets – the drug that reacts specifically with an omega's chemistry to push them into a false Heat. He hated his Heats already as it was, no way he was going to go into one  _ deliberately _ .

“He shot my dad while he stood next to the car. Scott got out to run to my dad and the dude's partner shot him,” Stiles continues his story in a flat voice. “Jackson ... he showed up at my door and drove me to the hospital like Jordan did for you. My dad was already gone but Scotty. I had to sign a fucking piece of paper to take Scotty off the machines.”

Derek looks down at the picture. That Stiles is gone and Derek feels angry that he never got to know  _ that _ Stiles ... he wonders if he laughed a lot. This Stiles laughs but somehow Derek knows it's different.

“I know what love is, Derek. I loved Scotty with everything I had, Derek. Everything. I loved my dad and I miss them both every damn day. So I don't know how things between us would have gone if you hadn't been in Heat ... maybe I would have noticed, maybe not,” Stiles says. “ But you  _ were _ in Heat and I did fall for you ... is it all just chemicals? Hell, I don't know. People told me and Scott that's all  _ we _ were at fifteen but we lasted and we got stronger and I was in love with him the night I lost him. I saw  _ you _ that first night, Derek. I saw  _ you _ without all this,” Stiles gestures at Derek vaguely. “This  _ armor _ you put up to keep me at bay. I saw this beautiful creature with eyes like green pools and a body that is just  _ damn _ and all this ... this  _ pain  _ that made me want to fucking kill whoever hurt you. You amazed me because all that pain and fear just bled away and there was this wonderful guy underneath that made me feel like I was king of the world. And I was for a while and I fell so hard for that guy. So fucking hard.”

“It was my Heat ... I'm not that guy,” Derek protests.

“Yeah? So why'd I wake up next to you and  _ know _ that I wanted to take care of you for the rest of my life? How come I woke up  _ every morning  _ since wanting nothing more than to figure out how to make you smile because you can fucking stop traffic with that smile of yours, cub,” Stiles demands. “How come I spend every free moment thinking about you? It's not a fucking  _ crush _ , Derek. I fell in love with you during your Heat. I'm not spending the rest of my life  _ proving _ I'm in love with you.”

“What if I want you to!” Derek yells, pushing away from the table and stalking out of the room. 

Stiles follows after a moment and Derek runs a hand over his face. “Run that by me again, Derek?”

Derek groans and wishes his mouth would never work again. 

“What if ... what if I  _ want _ you to prove it ... every day. What if ... what if I needed that?”

“Pretty damn tall order, cub,” Stiles replies.

“I know. But ... I don't – I didn't have someone like you when I had my first Heat. I was so scared and hell, I didn't know what I was doing. My parents ... my family was dead. I was in foster care ... they just took me to the Center and dropped me off,” Derek whispers. “I waited and then the door opens and four men come in ... they said they loved me while they ... while it was happening. I said it back. I was fifteen and in Heat and I didn't know what the hell was happening.  Then it was over and they were gone and I was still in love until it all wore off and I saw the lie. The fucking lie.  Scott was so lucky he had you ... I wish. I wish you would have been my first, Stiles. You were ... God you made it so good. I wish you'd been my first.”

Stiles puts a hand between Derek's shoulder blades. “I wish I'd been your first too, cub. Fuck ... I wish --”

“If wishes were fishes,” Derek quips.

Stiles' hand feels warm on Derek's back and he concentrates on it for a moment. He turns and the hand sits in the middle of his chest, over his sternum. It slides up until it cups his jaw and Derek leans into the touch. He's been kissed since he came home from the hospital but Stiles hasn't pushed for more, letting him choose the pace. Derek lets himself be pulled forward into  yet  a nother kiss.

For a long moment, that's all it is, just a kiss with tongues softly dragging over one another. Stiles' other hand comes up and frames Derek's face. Derek lets his arms slide around Stiles and they press against one another. Derek feels the knot in his chest ease and he whimpers, pulling back. Stiles' hands, however, go to Derek's hips and keep him in place. Derek looks at the alpha uncertainly.

“Nothing happens that you don't want, cub,” Stiles says, reminding Derek of the words he spoke on the night of Derek's Heat.

“But you're not Iron Man,” Derek supplies, remembering that warning too.

Stiles smiles gently and shakes his head. “Nope. I'm weak and I admit it. I want you, Derek.”

“God help you,” Derek replies.

“He already did ... you're here, aren't you?” Stiles asks.

Derek nods. “I am. If you want me.”

“Cub, I can't promise I'm going to get it right, but I'll do what I can to prove I love you. It wasn't a lie and it didn't fade away when your Heat did ... I swear it didn't,” Stiles murmurs against Derek's lips.

“Ok,” Derek says before opening to Stiles again.

Stiles kisses Derek and smiles when he feels the rock hard body relax against him. He tugs at the black t-shirt until it comes free from the jeans. Derek inhales sharply when Stiles' hands glide over his torso, pushing up the shirt until he has to raise his arms to let the alpha get it off.

“ God, how lucky am I?” Stiles murmurs.

Derek feels himself blush. How the hell Stiles manages to make him feel like this he has no idea but ... he likes it. He likes knowing his alpha wants him like this ... that he finds Derek's body pleasing. Instincts older than both of them come into play as Derek's arousal grows. He pulls at Stiles' shirt as the alpha kisses him. He breathes in the heady scent of the other man and feels almost dizzy. 

Stiles hasn't seen much more than this of Derek since the omega returned home with him. He kisses the bruises softly, barely putting any pressure to them and he enjoys the pull of muscles beneath the skin. Stiles plays his tongue up the defined edge of Derek's six-pack and takes the breathy gasp as a signal to keep going. He kisses up between the pecs and then over Derek's windpipe. The omega's hands are insistent now, undoing Stiles' belt and jeans. 

Stiles takes off his own shirt and kisses Derek while he makes his own way into the omega's jeans. He pauses when he realizes Derek isn't wearing any boxers. Their eyes meet and Derek gives a shrug.

“I – most alphas don't like their omegas to wear them so I thought ...”

“No complaints, no complaints,” Stiles hisses into Derek's mouth, claiming him again. “Do or don't ... your choice ... but no complaints.”

Derek chuckle dies in a groan as Stiles closes a cool hand over his cock. His jeans are pulled down over his ass to fall to the floor. Derek moves to do the same to Stiles but he suddenly finds his hands pulled up and around Stiles' neck. He blinks dazedly at the alpha.

“Wha--”

“Keep them there,”  Stiles orders.

Dere k shakes whe n Stiles grips him. The alpha's other hand drifts down Derek's spine and circles just above his cleft. Derek grunts, pressing himself against Stiles' hip. He finds himself starting to grind him self against the alpha in counter to Stiles' movements.

S tiles captures Derek's mouth again. He loves  the way Derek's scent begins to go sweet along the edge, signaling his submission.

“Let go, cub,” Stiles murmurs, his fingers dipping into Derek. 

Derek moans, his head lolling back as Stiles  swaps hands and  uses the omega's own slick to lubricate the quickening strokes. His thighs tremble as the climax build s. He fights it out of habit, struggling to regain control. Stiles presses a kiss against the bite mark. Derek shudders and the lust in his scent blazes bright and sugary.

“Derek ... Derek ... you're safe ... you're safe, cub ... I love you ... it's real ... and you're safe ...” Stiles says in a gentle voice.

“Want you ... want ...” Derek gasps.

“Let go, cub. Let go ...”

Derek moans as his body seizes and he pulses out over Stiles' hand. Stiles gently pumps him through the aftershocks and lifts his hand to run a thumb over Derek's lower lip.  Derek's dilated eyes stay locked on Stiles' as his tongue darts out to taste himself. His breathing is harsh and uneven. And when the tears start, Stiles doesn't even bat an eye. He just pulls the omega against him and holds the shaking body.

“I'll tell you every day, Derek. Every day.  I wasn't your first ... but I'm damn sure going to make certain I'm the last alpha that ever touches you,” Stiles promises. “I'm not letting you go, cub.”

Derek looks at Stiles.  He finds he believes the alpha. He has a chance to have something real for once. A chance to not be alone. He leans in and gently nuzzles the alpha. 

“I think I can deal with that,” Derek murmurs. “You missed the barbeque.”

“They'll manage without me. But you realize we're having potato salad for every meal for a week,” Stiles replies.

“No problem ... it looked really good,” Derek answered.

“Scotty's favorite. Goes great with steak ... which I think I have in the freezer,” Stiles says.

“I don't know if I can be him, Stiles,” Derek says uncertainly.

“Good ... I want  _ you _ , cub. Just you ... being you. I'm not the same guy I was before he died either ... and I never will be again,” Stiles says.

“Are we really having this conversation in your living room with my pants around my ankles?” Derek asks with a faint smirk.

“Start a shower, cub ... I'm going to get the steaks out to defrost.  I'll join you in just a sec,” Stiles says.  He watches while Derek pulls up his jeans to rest loosely on his hips.

H e brushes his lips over Derek's again. “I d on't see you as a replacement for Scott, Derek. Ok? I don't want to start us off like that.”

“ Fair enough. I like my steaks medium rare, by the way,” Derek replies, toeing off his boots and slipping off his jeans. 

Stiles watches the naked omega walk down the hall to the bathroom. He nearly trips over his own jeans rushing to get the steaks out and on the counter before hopping down the hall, pulling off his remaining clothes as he does so.


End file.
